Polly's Story
by truemizzie
Summary: A story of social status, sexism, and everything else that affected New York during the Newsies' Strike. Discontinued.
1. Just A Bad Couple Of Days

It was morning. The Sun was rising higher and higher, getting brighter with each step. Finally, it reached the inside of a dark alleyway in Bottle Alley, hitting the eyes of the girl, Polly, who lay nearly motionless on top of a mattress of blankets. She wore a man's top over a tattered, knee length skirt and ripped tights given to her by authorities who decided it was 'socially unacceptable' for girls to wear pants.

The Sun glowed over her face, waking her with its heat. Polly reached forward, stretching out her aching arms. This was just another day to survive. But how? She no longer had a job. She started at a book store, but could not read, and was fired because she couldn't find the books that customers were looking for. So she became a newsie. She was one for a year, almost two, then the strike started. Not only could she not afford papers anymore, but she wasn't even allowed to buy them.

She could join the strike, but why would a bunch of boys want to be seen with a girl like her any more. Polly didn't mind being a girl, not really. She had always dreamed of those beautiful dresses, corsets, perfectly curled hair, and a comfortable mattress with cotton sheets. All she had was a tattered skirt, ever growing dark blonde hair, and a hat. She was ugly to the bourgeois, but with fine eyes. They were a blue-grey colour, she was told. Mirrors were difficult to come by in this time.

Polly tried to decide what she would do with her day. Try to get a job, try to steal some food?

Join the strike?

No.

She wasn't strong enough, and she had nobody to help her or take care of her. She was always separate. She reached into her lidless crate and pulled out a tin of old soup from the nuns she had seen a few days before. Sipping it, she realized at once that it had gone bad already. In her anger, she threw it out into the street, hoping it would hit one of the beautiful people passing by. It bounced along the ground gracefully, stopping gracefully in the middle of the sidewalk.

Only then did Polly begin to cry.

This is her story.

Dozens of boys were jumping out of the Newsboy's Lodging House in Manhattan, New York. They ran through the alleys, trying to make their way to the distribution center near the 'World' offices. They laughed at each other's antics and enjoyed the company of their friends. At each alley, more boys were joining their group and enjoying their antics. People were watching them through windows, wondering how boys so young of age could get up so early to work for the city. The answer was passion.

These boys, of all ages, loved being near each other, and though selling papers was a job to all of them, their friendship and family never failed to keep them working hard. They spoke to each other.

"It's a fine life!" A boy named Jack Kelly would call out through the streets and all of the other newsboys would elaborate on this. Some would complain, some would cheer, but they were bright and happy throughout their small conversations. Finally, a girl was thrown into the mix. She listened to their words through an alley, eventually asking,

"Ah, what does it take to be a newsie, anyway?" the boys stopped and looked at the smug face of Polly. She wore a baggy skirt and short pants, both extremely ragged and torn. She had rotting black shoes. The most valuable object on her was a floppy hat a group of Brooklyn boys stole for her, in the name of a bet. "If I get that hat for you, what'll you do?" they'd ask her.

"If you ever got me that hat, I'd call myself Polly Pulitzer," she'd reply with a sarcastic tone. Eventually she left Brooklyn, and dropped that last part of her new name when she joined the Manhattan Newsies. Nobody really knew why she left Brooklyn, but they assumed she just wanted to see something new from New York.

The boys stared at her for a minute, until Jack Kelly started to laugh.

"What's it take to be a newsie? It's takes a buttery smile!"

"Like ladies can't resist!" Crutchy, a crippled young lad joined in.

"It takes an orphan with a stutter," Racetrack Higgins joined the conversation, flirtatiously moving towards Polly. She brushed him away casually, smiling.

"Who's not afraid to use his fist!" Kid Blink finished the answer. Polly laughed a moment.

"Well, that sure stinks, doesn't it?"

"Just wait until winter," a pessimistic Skittery said softly.

"Welcome to New York!" Jack Kelly ended the conversation as quickly as he could, so that everybody could get back to normal.

They ran through the streets, getting closer to their destination with each passing moment. Right before they were in front of the Distribution Center, a duo of villains came up to them. The Delancy Brothers. They pestered our heroes for a few minutes, until Jack Kelly decided to take care of the problem. He stole Morris Delancy's hat and ran off with it, running into two young boys. He suggested that they run, and continued himself. Finally, the brothers had chased everyone to the Distribution Center, and Jack gave Morris's hat back.

They all walked up into a line next to the wall of the center, and waited for their turn to buy papers. The line clumped together as more Newsies came to join, and people were pushed into groups.

"Hey Mush," Polly said after being pushed into the boy's shoulder.

"How's it going, Polly?" Kid Blink replied before Mush did, winning him an elbow in the ribs. Polly looked indifferent.

"Hey Polly," Mush said to her, then turned to Blink to start a new conversation. She waited quietly in the line.

There was some drama having to do with one of the boys they had met briefly on the way to the Center, but it was quickly solved using Jack Kelly's experience with different sorts of people. Soon, they were all walking off the Center and to their selling spots. Mush and Kid Blink left together for Bottle Alley, and Polly left alone to get to her corner near Central Park. Now we leave this part of the story to meet two other Newsies: Skittery and Specs, selling partners.

"Skittery, hey Skittery! Wait up for a minute!" Specs called out, running behind his friend. They were on their way to City Hall. It was one of the busiest places in Manhattan, and there were always plenty of people to buy their papers from them.

"Specs, you really need to get out more," Skittery told Specs when he caught up. The words would have been playful on many other days, but today they were angry. Skittery was in a bad mood.

"Why so glum, Skitts?" at these words Skittery spit out the gum he was chewing and stopped walking to crush it onto the pavement. He never answered the question.

"Hey, that was the new stuff! Don't go wasting it!" Specs yelled at him. He pulled a piece of gum from his own pocket and started chewing it. "Come on, what's with the rotten attitude?"

"Nothin', just a bad couple of days is all."

There was absolute silence between them until they got to the Hall. Specs felt that he was ready to try asking another question, hoping that Skittery wouldn't get angry with him.

"Skitts, we've been friends since before we were Newsies. If something was wrong with you, I think I'd know. And at the moment, I really do think that something is up with you. So, you might as well tell me, or I'll find out all by myself."

Skittery remained silent toward Specs as he sold a newspaper to a young woman in a long white dress. He showed her a big smile and took her extra penny gladly, tipping his hat as she turned to leave. He waited until Specs prodded him for more information before he spoke again.

"Well, you see Specs, I just don't think I feel like being a newsie anymore."

"Not a newsie? Skittery, are you kidding me? You were born to be one of us, you're one of our best newsies!" Specs quieted down quickly as a man dressed in a tailored suit came to buy two papers. His new found attitude gave him nothing but the two pennies used to buy the papers.

"Yeah, well, I've gotten a better offer," Skittery was apologetic now, after keeping Specs from getting a tip from the two rich men. He flashed a smile at woman with her significant other by her side. She whispered something in the man's ear and they walked over to him, gracefully buying a paper and throwing two extra quarters into his dirty hands. Skittery tipped his hat deeper this time and waved when the couple looked back at him. "Here," he said to Specs, "Let me buy you something to drink."

They shuffled over to a small shop a few blocks away from City Hall. Both boys ordered a coffee, and sat down on the curb outside of the tiny restaurant. Specs turned to Skittery, knowing that he was about to say something important.

"See, Specs, I'm one of the only Newsies that can read _and_ write. Not many people can do that at all these days," he said quietly. After sipping his coffee he continued. "That puts me in…in high demand."

"For what?" Specs asked him, angry inflections visible in his tone.

"That's what I'm telling you, Specs, so listen. I got an offer to work as an editor for The Sun newspaper. A guy named Brian Denton asked me to tell him the headlines before he bought his paper, and I noticed a mistake in the words on the front page. He gave me a pen so I could fix the rest of my papers, and noticed that I could write. Told me to apply for a job."

Specs stared at him. He tilted his head as if to ask 'what next?'

"I did it, Specs. They want to see me for the job. If I get it, I'll be the person making sure there aren't any spelling mistakes. The money stinks, but it's better than this."

"What could be better than being a newsie?" Specs asked him. "You just got a quarter for looking sweet!"

"I'm getting too old for this, Specs. So are you. We both have to get real jobs before it's too late. You always said that you wanted to go to school and be a businessman, now's your chance!"

"Skittery, I also said that I would write a book, and I can barely write my own name. They don't want people like me. Besides, there's no money in my pockets, how could I do that?"

Skittery looked sadly at Specs. They both knew it was true.

"Well, if you got another type of job, you could make money for school. I'd help you out, you know I would!"

"Nah. Thanks for the offer, but I'll figure something out," Specs got up and tossed a few pennies to Skittery. "See you at Tibby's later," he said, and walked away, leaving the end of his coffee on the sidewalk. Skittery sighed loudly and buried his head in his hands.

After a long day of selling, most of our heroes met at Tibby's Diner. The selling groups all sat together and chatted about their day over small, shared meals. Polly sat in a small booth with Mush, Racetrack and Kid Blink. She did not eat.

"Where do you think Cowboy is?" Racetrack asked. Mush shrugged.

"Probably still with that David kid, teaching him the ropes," Kid Blink answered proudly. Jack was a leader for the Newsies, along with himself, and they held each other in high respect.

"I hope he didn't get into any trouble," Polly muttered quietly, her arms folded to her chest.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Blink asked her with a smile. "He always gets into trouble! It's Jack!"

"Yeah, but I'm talking about real trouble. Snyder looked pretty angry today," she finished her sentence without an explanation. When Polly spoke, her words always sounded intelligent, but she couldn't speak very much. Even though she was a Newsie, she was still a girl, and couldn't overstay her welcome with the group.

At this point in history, men overpowered women with ease. They got married and the women stayed home wearing skirts and dresses, taking care of the children while the men made money for the family. It was not a rule, but it was socially accepted.

Social status had huge impact around this time, so it was important to have respect for those above you and try to stay indifferent to those below you. It wasn't a law, it was simply accepted. Even the Newsies accepted it.

But somehow, they still treated Polly with great respect. Perhaps it was the fact that she still wore pants. They thought it made her interesting, and made them feel like she could belong more. The real reason she wore pants was so she wouldn't stand out to the police, an important thing at the time. Most passer-bys would think she was just another boy.

The Newsies respected her willingness to work hard. It also made her more like a boy. She only really became a newsie for the money, which she needed desperately. Once again, they were wrong about her intentions.

But even though they respected her, they all knew that she was still a female newsie, and couldn't be too close to them. They all accepted this. She accepted this.

"I'm sure Jack'll be alright," Racetrack said out loud, so that all of the Newsies in the restaurant could hear him. Polly stood up, and inched out of the booth.

"I guess so. Goodnight," she said, and left the restaurant. A few boys waved at her on her way out, but many remained indifferent.

She was, after all, just a girl.


	2. Not What I'm Here For

Authors Note:

First of all, I'd like to thank everybody for their reviews. I'm trying to make Polly as little of a Mary Sue character as possible, and I'm glad that I am succeeding so far.

Now, it is important for me to tell you that I am trying to stay as close to real History as possible, so I might leave the movie plot a bit to stay closer to what really happened during the strike. On another note, I did a lot of research on the Bowery for this section, so almost everything I say about it is true. There was a James DeLancey farm (sorry for my characterization of the Bowery DeLanceys) surrounding the Bowery street and McGurk's Suicide Hall and craze did exist in 1899. Just a little history lesson for you before you read this chapter.

Polly's Story

None of the Newsies really knew where Polly would go after visiting Tibby's with them. She'd never eat anything and would always leave at the exact same time. It just became what she did. The boys would often notice her becoming skinnier, and see her skin begin to pale on certain days, but they never talked about it. They assumed it was something they just couldn't understand properly because they were boys.

Jack came back to the Lodging House with Racetrack right before the door was closed. He always seemed to have perfect timing like that. The due walked up the stairs into their dorm and sat around a circle of fellow Newsies who were playing Poker.

"Why weren't you at Tibby's today, Jack?" Kid Blink was the first to ask while picking up a new card.

"That new kid, David, and I got into a bit of trouble with Snyder," Jack answered, looking over his shoulder to see his cards. Blink swatted him away as Crutchy placed down a card. Mush, who wasn't playing, folded his arms and leaned back a bit.

"That's why he looked mad," Jack looked pointedly at him, asking what he meant through his face. Racetrack noticed this first.

"Nah, just something Polly told us," Jack nodded to himself.

"Have you ever wondered where she always heads off to?" he asked the group. They looked at him with confused looks.

"Who, Polly?" Blink voiced. Jack nodded. "A Lodging House, I guess," he shrugged. The boys shrugged their approval of the answer. After a few more rounds of cards the boys went to bed, none of them knowing what would happen the next morning.

They jacked up the price of newspapers that morning. All of the Manhattan Newsies were sitting around Jack, asking him what to do. The decision - to strike. After getting all of the boys riled up about it using David's words, Jack sent them all to different parts of New York City to persuade other Burroughs to join The Strike. Mush went to the Bowery. Dutchy, knowing that the Bowery was a largely Dutch area, followed automatically. Polly tagged along also, as she had not been sent anywhere. The two boys seemed indifferent.

Specs, Skittery and Bumlets were all sent to Queens together. Queens was not far from Manhattan, but it felt like a long way for all three boys because of their topic of conversation.

"You know, you can talk to me Specs, it ain't like I'm going to bite you or anything," Skittery said angrily after a long period of silence. Specs continued walking silently on the other side of Bumlets, who was extremely confused about all of this. "Specs, come on!" Skittery prodded, waiting for some sort of answer.

"Look, I don't have nothing against you, I just don't feel like saying anything, alright?" Specs said simply. Bumlets looked at both of them and shrugged, still standing in the middle of the feud. Skittery let out a loud sigh of anger.

"Hey, you asked me to tell you what was up, and I did. Sorry you didn't like the answer!"

"Well, did you really expect me to?" Specs was getting angry. "God, Skittery, what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me?_ I didn't do anything!"

Specs' pace was getting faster and faster, making the others speed up with him. Bumlets was still keeping the two boys from each other. He looked at both in the silence, until Specs spoke to him.

"Hey, Bumlets, what do you think about this?"

"About what?"

"Oh, you haven't heard everything from Specs?" Skittery asked him with a great amount of spite in his voice.

"No," Bumlets replied.

"Skittery has decided that he doesn't like being a Newsie anymore," Specs said, surprisingly loudly.

"Specs, just stop, alright. It's not that I don't like it…"

"You just got a 'better offer.' Yeah, yeah…"

"What are you trying to say?"

Bumlets heaved a heavy sigh as the two boys fought through him. It was going to be a very long day.

Mush, Dutchy and Polly were making their way to the Bowery, a place that was often called the slum of New York City. It was a street-like area of Manhattan filled with immigrants, mainly Dutch. It was also filled with the homeless, making it a breeding ground for Newsies.

"Where do you want to go first?" Mush asked Dutchy quietly while they were making their way towards the Bowery. Dutchy shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. We can try their Distribution center, but it's a bit late for anybody to be there right now," Mush nodded at this answer for a moment, until Dutchy continued. "There might be a few Newsies hanging around the shopping area."

The boys walked from the Harlem river into the street. It was here that they found their first obstacle: getting past the James DeLancey farm. The DeLancey's, who we met earlier, had a strange hate for Newsies and for people who they felt didn't belong. They were all extremely prejudiced against anybody below them, whether by race or gender. This was a large problem for the three Newsies.

They stopped at the beginning of the street, looking on the left side of the road to see the farm. There were workers right out to the edge of it, some of whom had already started watching them. Dutchy, who had been leading the group, was the first to walk forward. Polly started slowly after him, then Mush followed on the right side of the two. The DeLancey's had Dutch blood in their family, starting from the first immigrants to the Bowery, but it was those beside Dutchy that bothered them. They managed to make it half way past the farm when two young workers put down their rakes to speak with them.

"You heading somewhere," the first asked them. The other stood beside him, created a barrier in their way. Dutchy reached out his hand.

"My name is Dutchy, and this is Mush Meyers," the two boys took his hand and shook it firmly in turn. Mush, however, didn't move his own hand when he was introduced.

"And the girl?" the second worker asked, eyeing Polly.

"That's Polly," Dutchy replied. The worker placed his hand in front of her his other hand searching for something in his pocket.

"That's not what I'm here for…" she muttered softly, holding her arm firmly at her side. The worker pulled his hand back and placed it in his other pocket, an angry look on his face. Mush and Dutchy tried to ignore the conversation, not wanting to become a part of it.

"That's too bad."

"What _are_ you here for," the other asked quickly, facing Dutchy.

"We need to get into the Bowery," he replied, trying to use his matter-of-fact voice.

"To do what?"

"The Newsies are going on strike," Dutchy was more defiant now.

The two workers looked like they wanted to hear some elaboration on the subject of the Strike, but were called by a boy who seemed to be their boss. They looked back, yelled a few curse words, and began to leave. They motioned for Dutchy, Polly and Mush to continue their journey, but not without yelling one final comment at Polly.

"Hey, when you get in there, McGurk's is just around the corner from the Distribution Office!" They laughed at their joke for a moment and went back to their jobs.

"Don't worry about them," Polly said to Dutchy, who had begun to turn back. "It doesn't matter to me."

Dutchy nodded to himself, glared at the workers for a moment, and began to continue towards the Bowery. "Follow me," he said. When they got deeper into the Bowery they found themselves in a large shopping area. There was a book store, a grocery store, and a few scattered restaurants and dress shops, including McGurk's. McGurk's was nicknamed McGurk's Suicide Hall - it was a place many dark women went to in order to live up to the name of the place. Polly looked at it oddly for a moment, wondering why no police ever went to stop the craze. They didn't want to get involved, even though everybody knew what was going on just inside the walls.

"We should split up," Mush suggested when they got to that part of the street. He eyed a group of darker skinned Newsies and left to go talk to them. Dutchy began to walk towards a group just outside of a clothing store. He looked back at Polly.

"We'll meet back here at two o'clock," he told her. Polly simply nodded and gave a little wave. She looked around curiously, almost hoping that she would see a giant group of female Newsies that she could persuade. Needless to say, she did not succeed. She felt around in her pockets for some money, and took a long look at McGurk's. Mindlessly, she took a few steps toward it, each one carrying her closer. She did not go in, but instead looked into the window. There were mostly men there, but further back a young lady was paying a man four bits. He took her hand and led her up a tall staircase while she cried. Polly gasped and turned around, running far away from the restaurant. A young boy stopped her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in his New York accent.

"Are you a Newsie?" she questioned worriedly, without answering.

"Yeah…what's it to you?"

"There's a Strike…they raised the prices-" she began.

"I know, I know, the papers, right?" he motioned her along. She simply nodded to him.

"The Manhattan Newsies are starting a Strike against the World. Try to…to pass the word along," he told her would and began to leave, not bothering to say goodbye. Then he wheeled around.

"You're a Newsie too, right?"

Polly was about to answer, "Sort of," but instead decided on,

"Yes."

"I hope you weren't planning on going in there…horrible place, that McGurk's, absolutely awful things they're doing in there," he looked pensive as he spoke to her, she simply kept her head towards the ground.

"Of course not," she answered. He looked at her. He knew.

"I have to go," Polly finally told him quietly. He nodded and left her.

He knew.


	3. Don't Want To Overstay My Welcome

A/N:

It's been a long time since I updated this story. My muses have been getting tired. A gave them some caffeine. Here goes nothing!

Polly's Story

Instead of meeting at Tibby's, as was usually done after a day of selling, the boys all met around the statue of Horace Green. Most of them had forgotten about the strike while gambling with Racetrack. Others played with wooden swords and climbed the statue. It took the return of Jack, David and Boots to remind them. Jack was furious to find them in such a state.

"Jack, you know we can't do this without Brooklyn!" the Newsies told him.

"We have no chance," others said.

"That's why we have to do this," everyone was surprised to be hearing David's voice saying those words. "We have to prove that we can do something big, something important."

"And how can we do that?" Skittery asked him, avoiding Specs' eyes as much as he could.

"We just do it. We seize the day. We can do so much if we just keep trying."

They all discussed this. The decision was soon made that they would continue with the Strike, and keep trying to get all of the newsies in New York involved. They would start in Manhattan.

Pressuring most of the boys at the Distribution Office to drop their papers and join the Strike was going quite smoothly until one boy decided to go against the group, attacking them when they took away his papers. This started a short riot, which ended in the newspaper trolley being pushed over. The moment seemed perfect until the police came by, and the Delancey's dragged away a good friend of the newsies. Crutchy was taken to the Refuge.

A man had been watching the entire thing…Brian Denton. The boys met back at the statue, and decided to take a roll call and make sure they weren't missing anybody else. Polly had been present the entire time. Her name was never called.

The man named Denton found them during the roll call, and confirmed their suspicion that Crutchy had been attacked and taken. Jack made the decision that he and David would rescue him from the Refuge that night. Denton offered the boys a meal before they went back to their Lodging Houses.

"It will keep you out of the police's eyes for a while," he told them, and none of them could say no to that. As they made their way to Tibby's, Skittery stopped to say hello to the man.

"Michael!" Denton proclaimed, shaking the boys hand. "Are you ready for the interview?"

"I'm…getting ready," Skittery replied. Neither noticed that Specs had stayed behind also, listening to the conversation.

"And you're still going, I assume?" Denton asked.

"We haven't got any problems with the Sun, Mr. Denton."

"So this is him!" Specs cried, moving beside Skittery. Skittery turned his head and gave him a quick glare. "You're the man who offered Skitts here an editing job!" he continued. Skittery knew exactly what he was doing.

"I suppose I am. What's your name?"

"This is my friend," Skittery began, lifting his foot to put a silent pressure on Specs. "His name is Carlton. Jamie Carlton," he told Denton with a smile.

"Nice to meet you." Denton shook a baffled Specs' hand. "Well, I see you boys at the restaurant," he told them and left.

When he was out of hearing range, Specs pulled Skittery in front of him by his collar.

"Why the hell would you do that?" he muttered angrily. Skittery quickly pulled Spec's hands off of his shirt and answered coolly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What if somebody would have heard?"

"Well, they didn't, did they?"

"I told you to keep it a secret! You promised me!" Specs was yelling.

"Yeah, well you could have ruined my only chance to get a real job!" Skittery was suddenly angry.

"It would have served you right." Specs glared for a moment, then began walking in the direction of the Lodging House. Skittery sighed guiltily and yelled to Specs.

"Aren't you going to eat?" There was no answer. "Suit yourself," Skittery muttered, and made his way to Tibby's. He wasn't going to miss out on a free meal.

Polly sat silently at a table in Tibby's, listening to Jack's rescue plan. He was going to have one of the younger criminals to sneak out of his room and make his way to the door, opening it for Jack to run in and cause a distraction long enough for David to get Crutchy down the stairs and back to the Lodging House. She wanted to ask why the distraction was needed at all, why they couldn't just have him sneak out, but there was no need. She knew that Jack Kelly always needed to make a production of everything. It made him seem like more of a hero.

She admitted to herself, that this wasn't only her opinion. She heard Mush saying it to Kid Blink one day, when they were sitting at a two-person table across from her. She had never even questioned Jack's ideas until that moment. She remembered Kid Blink telling Mush to stop being so negative.

"And besides," he whispered, "what's a plan without a little fun?"

Mush simply smiled and stayed quiet. Kid Blink laughed and changed the subject quickly. A glance at the clock told her it was six o'clock and she left, hoping that neither of the boys noticed that she had been listening to them.

A glance at the clock in the present told Polly that it was six o'clock again, and she stood up to make her way to the door. Jack, who remembered his curiosity from the night before, was the first to notice Polly leaving.

"Where are you going?" she continued walking, not knowing that the question was directed at her. "Polly!" She stopped and turned around. Jack glanced at the boys around the room. They had all become silent.

"Polly, every day you leave us at about the same time. Where are you going?"

She had no idea what to answer. The blank look on her face made most of the boys turn back to their meals, knowing that they themselves were being too forward. Jack remained stone-faced as Polly finally decided on an answer.

"My curfew is seven," she answered. It was true, she supposed, if not very vague. The answer, to her relief, seemed to satisfy Jack, who told her goodnight as she left.

Blink turned to Jack. "See, I was right! It is another Lodging House."

"With a seven o'clock curfew," Jack laughed a bit. "Geez…it's like the Refuge for girls."

The next day came quickly, and all of the newsies were disappointed to wake up without the smiling face of Crutchy to greet them.

"He's fine," Jack told them, deciding not to mention of badly the Delancey's had hurt Crutchy. He knew that they would hate the duo just as much without having to worry about their friend. So, they chose that day to fight back against kids who were now being called "Scabs."

The fight was going badly until a very powerful group of boys decided to show up. Brooklyn. Polly showed up soon after them, having not known a thing about a fight until she heard the yells coming from the Distribution Office. She stayed far out of the way while the newsies won, and watched with a smile as they posed for picture.

Most of the newsies went back to Brooklyn to celebrate. Skittery, however, moved in an entirely opposite direction. He was moving back towards the Lodging House.

"Where's Skittery going?" Dutchy asked Specs, who watched his friend sadly. A few boys pushed closer to hear the answer. Specs stared at all of them, and tried to sound convincing as he answered.

"I have no idea."

They left for Brooklyn, content with the answer.

At the Lodging House, Skittery pushed the mattress off of his bunk. Underneath it sat a tattered, yet still wearable suit. He laid it out on top of the mattress, hoping the wrinkles would straighten out as he washed. Coming back, he quickly put on the suit and moved towards the nearest mirror to brush his hair. Suddenly, he heard the door opening.

"Look, Specs, don't bug me now, okay?" he yelled out as he went back into the bunkroom to make sure he had everything he needed.

"Skittery…where did you get that?"

Skittery immediately knew that the voice he was hearing did not belong to Specs. He looked up at the boy.

"God, Mush, you scared me to death." Mush didn't say anything, simply continued staring at the suit.

"It was my dad's," Skittery explained quickly, and continued looking through his things, making a checklist in his mind. "Why are you here?" he asked Mush, trying to sound casual.

"I got a bit of a cut on my knee yesterday…it opened up while we were running across the bridge." Mush made his way to the bathroom. "Figured I'd come back and clean it out a little, just in case." Skittery nodded a bit.

"Probably a good idea."

Mush looked up while running water over a white cloth. "Why are you here?"

"I was just getting ready."

"I noticed that…everybody's wondering what you've been up to lately."

"Everybody should mind their own business. Besides, hasn't Specs told them everything?"

"No."

Skittery's eyes widened. With all the spite Spec's was nursing towards him, why wouldn't he gossip the story to all of the guys?

"Nothing? What about Bumlets?"

"Not a thing." Mush went to a bunk and sat down, rubbing the cloth against the cut. Skittery was surprised to see how large it was.

"Geez…was it that big yesterday?"

"A bit smaller. Like I said, it opened up while we were running."

"Still, you'd think somebody would have noticed it." Skittery sat opposite Mush, resigning himself to the fact that no matter how much stuff he had with him, he would never be completely ready.

"Well, we were fighting, remember? I think everybody got a few scrapes."

"No kidding. And they all whined about them. You're the only one around here who never complains about anything. I don't get it."

Mush shrugged, turning the cloth over to it's clean side. "Well, as long as bad stuff is still happening, what right do I have to be a whiner?"

"Same right as the people who are. Seriously, Mush, why don't you?"

"I'm not sure you'd get it." Skittery noticed Mush's face become very serious. "I mean…it's not that you wouldn't, I just don't think you can."

Mush stayed quiet for a moment. He lifted the cloth and looked at the injury, which had stopped bleeding.

"My mother warned me when I decided to come here. My mother told me to try not to make a big show of myself, and stay as _quiet_ as possible. Not that I've really succeeded in that." Mush smiled a bit.

Skittery watched as Mush stood up and cleaned out the blood stained cloth, returning it to its pristine white colour. He returned to his spot opposite Skittery and looked him squarely in the face.

"You see…I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Oh." It was the only thing Skittery could think to say.

Mush stood up quickly, trying his best to return to his optimistic state. "You never told me what you were getting ready for," he told Skittery, who also stood up, making his way towards the door.

"I have a job interview for the Sun. As a spell-checker."

"The Sun. Isn't that Denton's paper?"

"Yeah," Skittery answered, pulling the door open. He stopped for a minute, wondering what Mush would say about it.

"Good luck," was what he chose to say. Skittery turned around.

"You know, Mush? No matter what colour you were, I think we'd all like you just the same."

"Why did you think I stayed here?" They both smiled as Skittery left. After a few minutes, Mush looked down at his knee, and noticed the beginning of a scab over the cut. He grinned at the irony and left, hoping to get back to Brooklyn before the celebration ended.

Skittery got to the office for his interview just in time to not be late. It went almost perfectly, he thought, if not for a few slang words he let drip out of his mouth. The man interviewing him asked him to write a few things, read a few things, everything Skittery had been practicing.

He saw Denton in his own office as he left, and on his desk he saw the photo the newsies had taken. It made his walk home a lot brighter after the sun had gone down. Most of the newsies had gone to bed when he walked into the Lodging House, and he was able to change without them noticing. He woke up feeling more than content, and as he went to give his face a morning wash, he heard the angry voice of Specs beside him.

"So, when are you walking out on us?"

Glum and Dumb became Skittery's nick name that day.

A/N: Well, that was a lot more dramatic than I expected it to be. And depressing. Anyways, keep me skinny, and turn reviews into the new caffeine for my muses. They say it's the healthy alternative.


	4. I Shouldn't Even Think That

A/N: Again, I took way longer to work on this than even I expected. I didn't forget about the story, I just needed some inspiration. So, without further ado, here's chapter four! Oh…and some backtracking was needed. Just pointing that out.

Polly's Story

Mush walked towards the Brooklyn Bridge at a steady pace; wanting to take in the quiet a little bit before he was overcome with the joyful celebration in Brooklyn. He stopped to look around every once in a while. Manhattan was so peaceful at night. There were no cops to chase you if you looked at somebody the wrong way, no civilians to mock you if you were poorer than they were. The only thing you had to worry about was temptation, something that haunted the men in the city at every street corner.

Mush avoided the corners, walking through the roads and not the sidewalks, but he couldn't help wonder what would happen if he did approach one of the women. How much would he have to pay them - and what would they do for him if he did. He shook his head. There was no use thinking about it. He wouldn't sink that low. But something may have wanted him to sink lower than he would have liked, because he instantly recognized the two boys that happened to be crossing in front of him, a girl between their arms.

"What are you doing so far from your Lodging House?" one of the Bowery DeLancey's asked him, an annoying smirk on his face.

"Just…walking," Mush replied, hoping he could get out of the conversation quickly. He avoided the sight of the girl as much as he could, but still noticed her dress. She was wearing a skirt - however tattered it was - and a boys button down shirt small enough to have fit Tumbler. She held her face as far down as it would go, and it was covered with her hair.

"Hey, you'll have to pay to get a good look at our girl," the other one joked. He continued, "We haven't been properly introduced. Joseph DeLancey," he put out his hand to be shaken. Mush hesitated. "Oh, I forgot. We're not meant to shake hands with your lot."

Mush felt the anger rising inside of him.

"Well, you can still talk, right?" the first one asked him. Mush didn't answer. The question was rhetorical. "I'm Robert - DeLancey, obviously. And I forget your name."

"Mush Meyers," Mush whispered. He saw the girl's head rise a few inches, as if to look at him through her hair. He couldn't help notice that she was the same height as Polly. _No,_ he thought. _I shouldn't even think that._

"We're just off to have a little fun with our new friend," the one that called himself Joseph shook the girl on his arm for a second, quite violently. The girl whimpered. A familiar voice escaped.

"You'd think they'd be a bit happier, considering their being paid, wouldn't you?" Robert stated. Mush decided not to answer. Both boys noticed.

"Well, good luck with your little strike," Robert went on. The boys passed by Mush, and he was about to start walking again when they turned back around.

"By the way," Joseph yelled at him. Mush turned around obediently. "She won't tell us her name. We forgot it. I don't suppose you remember?"

Again, they had the last word, and left laughing.

Mush couldn't speak when he reached the party. He knew he couldn't tell anyone. Not only would Polly be embarrassed for life, but they probably wouldn't even help her. How could they? Still, these were the newsies, they'd find a way. Right?

"Something wrong?" Kid Blink asked Mush when they got back to the dark Lodging House. Mush told him that he was tired. Blink didn't go on questioning him. When the morning came almost all of the newsies were happy. Today the picture that had been taken yesterday would be printed. Well, if Denton had persuaded the newspaper to do so, anyways.

They all went to Tibby's to see if what they wanted to be true was, in fact, true. It was. Denton strutted in with the newspaper, and they were all amazed to find that they had received the front page. There was another celebration. There was some question over the fact that Skittery seemed completely angry, and that Specs seemed angry at him. Skittery attempted to celebrate, but in the end ended up just chatting the hour away with Denton, who he had only smiled at the night before.

"I heard you had a great interview last night, kid."

"Thanks," Skittery mumbled, not wanting the other newsies to overhear their conversation.

"No, really. I think you might have a shot at this job."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Skittery smiled honestly for the first time that day.

The short celebration ended, and after the planning of a so-called, "Newsie Rally" they all walked home together in a block of newsies. Polly, who had not been to Tibby's (not knowing that they were going), joined the group as they were moving. They told her of the celebration, and asked why she had missed it last night. She reminded them of her curfew, laughing a little. They joined her. Even Mush couldn't help forgetting what he had seen the night before, in total denial that he had seen it at all. Then, forgetting all social rules, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

Polly stopped instantly, and they were in luck when most of the boys did not notice. Only Racetrack did, and he eyed the pair curiously, focusing on Mush. He gave him a short glare, but Mush forgot to remove his arm.

"Mush," Polly whispered sharply, and he remembered. He frowned, and took a deep breath. Before running to catch up with the rest of the group, he muttered to her.

"I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry."

Polly stayed where she was. She noticed Racetrack still behind the group with her.

"Go…I'll catch up," she lied, and began to run in the other direction. Racetrack frowned, knowing she wouldn't be back soon. He caught back up with the group and they went to the Lodging House to perfect their plan. The fact that Polly was once again missing from the group didn't sway them much, even though Jack did inquire about her whereabouts. Mush stayed silent, and Racetrack told him that she had to go somewhere. It was enough for the group.

The newsies went to bed late that night, barely able to sleep after the day's exciting events. Most of them fell asleep quickly after hitting the pillow, but Racetrack couldn't help thinking about what had happened after they had gone to Tibby's. He wondered where Polly had gone, and why she hadn't come back. Sitting up, he rolled off his bunk, and stood on the edge of it to be level with Blink's top bunk.

"Blink, wake up," he hissed, poking his friend annoyingly.

"What, what!?" Blink mumbled, finally waking up. He saw the round face beside him and jumped a little, but regained his control quickly. "What are you doing?" he complained.

"Come down here. I need to ask you something."

Blink muttered his anger as he inched down the side of the bunk, sitting on Racetrack's below. Racetrack sat next to him, and watched his younger brother, Snipeshooter, in the next bed.

"You and Mush are good friends, right?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"There's something I've got to tell you, okay? Don't freak out."

Blink looked at Racetrack curiously.

"Why would I freak out?"

"I don't know, just be careful, okay?"

"Okay."

Racetrack took a moment to look over at Mush's bed. He couldn't see him very well, but he seemed to be sleeping. Racetrack spoke as quietly as he could.

"I saw him touching Polly today." Blink's eye widened. It fell back to normal.

"Touching her? Like how?"

"Like…like he put his arm around her. After Tibby's."

"Like…friends?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Snipes and Boots do that, too, and it's no big deal."

Racetrack sighed.

"But this was less like friends…and more like friendly, if you know what I mean?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You don't think…?"

"He wouldn't let go of her, not until she kind of told him to. I'm wondering if I should talk to him about it, you know?"

"She had to tell him?"

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to him. In the morning or something."

"You don't want me to do it?" Racetrack asked.

"No. Like you said, we're good friends."

"You think he likes her?"

"I guess I'll ask him."

Blink pulled himself back up onto his own bunk and lied down. This wasn't going to be easy.

Author's Note: Sorry that was so short. At least it got me back into the plot and such. Oh, and please read and review!


	5. What If I Did?

Polly's Story

Morning came only too quickly for the boys in the Lodging House, especially for the two who had been up for a lot of the night, their curiosity piqued to the point that they could not fall back asleep. Kid Blink was up for far longer than Racetrack, worried about what he would say to his friend that morning. He had nearly planned out exactly what he would say, but sleep came, and then morning and he was out of time. He inched out of his bunk as Kloppman yelled at the group, insisting that even though they wouldn't sell papers they would still get up at a proper time. After performing his usual morning routine of shaving and getting dressed, he went back to his bunk, sitting on Racetrack's bed. Racetrack gave him a raised eyebrow, and then understood. Blink was waiting for Mush.

Finally, the boys began to leave the bunk room, some of them giving Blink curious looks. When most of them had left, Blink called Mush over. Mush obeyed, not quite knowing what would come next.

"We're going to get left behind," he told Blink, confused.

"Yeah, I know."

"Alright."

There was a moment of silence as Mush waiting for Blink to say something, but nothing came. It seemed as if Blink had frozen up, not wanting to say what he knew he would have to. Finally, he raised his head, and looked his friend in the eye.

"Racetrack told me."

Mush's shoulder's twitched. "Racetrack told you what?" he asked, trying to sound clueless. Blink sighed.

"I can understand it, you know," he shrugged. "I mean, she's nice looking. I wouldn't say she's great looking, but she's better than most of the girls off of the street."

"Who are you talking about?" Mush now looked nervous.

"So…do you like her?"

"Like who?"

"You know who." Blink snapped his last. Mush blinked, surprised at his anger.

"We should go catch up," he decided, and stood up. Blink didn't know whether or not to follow him, but decided on the latter. In fact, he chased Mush, who was running to catch up with the rest of the boys. They slowed for the two boys, thinking that they were simply racing. But when Blink caught Mush, they knew it wasn't just a friendly competition.

"You can't just go around touching her like that!" Blink yelled, his voice cracking a little bit.

"You were the last person I ever thought would be so mad about this," Mush hissed at him. Blink stopped speaking, and probably would have stopped for good, if Jack hadn't stepped in between the two newsies.

"What's wrong with you two?" he asked, a little distracted. David and Les were approaching the group, both looking slightly worried about the fighting that appeared to be going on. Blink wiped his mouth with the back of his hand angrily. Racetrack moved a little closer and spoke, barely interrupting Blink's next statement.

"It's alright, Kid, just let it go."

"You know what's going on here?" Jack asked Racetrack, who gave him an important look. Jack backed off.

"Yeah, he does," Blink got Jack's attention, nodding. Mush flipped his head over to Racetrack, who looked particularly guilty.

"What's going on?" It was Les who asked this, somehow finding his way to the front of the group. David touched his shoulder, forcing him to inch back, but his face still had a very frightened look on it.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on," Mush insisted, and began to turn around. However, Jack decided that he shouldn't yet, and pulled him back around.

"No…something's up, and you guys are going to tell us."

"Jack-" Racetrack started.

"You're going to tell all of us why you two are so mad at each other." At this point, Mush looked especially worried. He looked through the other newsies, watching the way that they looked back at him. Finally, he found Skittery's face, and caught his eye. Skittery stared back at him, wondering what was going on. Mush licked his lips nervously and gave a small nod. Skittery didn't know exactly what was going on, but at that moment, he understood what it could have been connected to.

"Jack," he said, pushing through the crowd. "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else, without the rest of the guys here."

"No!" Jack insisted. "I want to know what's going on, and I want to know right now." Mush looked like he was about to run away, but Jack kept his hold on his elbow. His voice calmed. "What happened, Mush?"

Mush's voice was very soft as he spoke, looking a little angrily at Blink. "Racetrack saw me doing something yesterday, after Tibby's. He told Blink - last night, I guess. Blink was asking me about it, and I didn't want to talk to him. That's it." This did not satisfy Jack.

"What did Racetrack see you doing?" Mush hung his head, refusing to answer. "Blink?" Jack turned to the other boy, who suddenly had a very proud look on his face.

"Race said he was touching Polly." This didn't seem to affect Jack. Blink continued. "I don't mean in any accidental way or something like that…I mean in a loving sort of way." Mush's face became a deep, dark red.

"That true, Race?" Jack asked, his grip on Mush's arm become noticeably tighter. Racetrack nodded. He turned to Mush. "Were you?"

"Not in the way he says I did," Mush mumbled, glaring at Blink. Skittery got a little closer. "Not like that."

"Then how, Mush?" Jack questioned.

"I just put my arm around her."

"But…how did you do it?" Jack's eyes got a little wider. "You don't- ?"

"No!" Mush suddenly yelled, his voice surprising even himself. "I just want to- to…I don't know what I want to do." That was the wrong thing to say.

"What do you want to do?" Even Jack looked as if he was a bit angry. "What do you want to do with her?"

"Not what you think I want to do! I just want to…protect her, I guess." The group shuffled uncomfortably.

"What does Polly need protection from?" Jack asked, now simply seeming curious.

"Nothing…" Mush shook his head, refusing to say anything else. "She doesn't need any protecting."

"No," Jack prodded. "You brought it up, now you have to say what you were going to say."

"But- Jack, look-"

"Just tell us!"

"It's not for me to tell you!" Mush cried. Jack's brow furrowed.

"So you do like her?"

"No, Jack, no…"

"Then tell us why she needs any protection, or we'll all think you do."

"And what if I did?" Mush looked up at Jack, staring him in the face. Suddenly, even Jack looked terrified.

"You know you're not allowed. Why would you-"

"I'm not saying I do." Mush rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying…what if I did? Then what would happen?"

"I…Mush?"

"No…you tell me what would happen if I liked her- in a friendly way. You know what I mean."

"Let it go, Mush," Skittery jumped in solemnly, trying to prevent more conflict.

"Or…" Mush continued, ignoring Skittery's plea. "What if I _was_ just trying to help her out, or protect her. Would that be so rotten?"

"You're not supposed to get so close to her," Jack told Mush, who nodded.

"I know. I'm not _supposed_ to. But what if I did? What if I saved her from something really terrible?" He turned to the group. "You'd all just leave me? Forget about me? Call me awful names? Does it matter if I know that you already do? If not about me, but about people like me?"

Some of the boys' heads dropped. David looked like he was finally catching on, but Les didn't. Instead, he broke free from David's grip on his shoulder and walked up to Boots, who watched the conflict with a face that was near excitement.

"What's going on?" Les whispered to him. Boots shrugged, and some of the group looked at him.

"What about Boots?" Mush suddenly spoke again. Jack looked at him, almost daring him to continue speaking. Mush did so. "Who's going to tell Boots? He's not even part, like me. He'll have it even worse, won't he?"

"Shut up, Mush," Racetrack cut into the conversation. "That has nothing to do with this. Just forget about it." Mush shook his head, looking pensively at the young boy he had just spoken about. Boots looked entirely confused, but said nothing. Mush shrugged.

"Jack, let's just go back to the House, and I'll tell you everything…okay?" he begged. Jack shook his head.

"Just tell me what's wrong with Polly. Maybe we can help her."

"It's not something you can help, Jack."

"Does anybody else know?" Jack suddenly asked, eyeing Racetrack.

"No…none of us, anyways." Jack let go of Mush. He walked away for a moment, then swiftly turned back around. Some of the boys yelled their complaints as Jack pushed Mush against a nearby wall, holding him there tightly. The kids cried for him to stop, but he wouldn't.

"Tell me what's going on with Polly now, Mush," he muttered under his breath. Mush looked again around the group, hoping one of them would help him to be released. Blink looked as if he wanted to help, but would not approach him. He was too frightened to.

"I saw her…two nights ago," Mush panted nervously. Jack twitched his head, prodding him to continue. "I had gone back to the House, talked to Skittery, and then left for Brooklyn again…"

"What happened on the way to Brooklyn?" Jack loosened his grip a little, but still had Mush's arms firmly against the bricks.

"I…saw the DeLancey's…" Jack nodded.

"Oscar and Morris are after Polly?"

"No…" Mush twitched a bit, wishing he had simply agreed with Jack's assumption. His eyes found Dutchy's. "It wasn't Oscar or Morris…it was the Bowery DeLancey's, their cousins…"

"Are _they_ after her?"

"No." Mush shook his head. "They…there was a girl with them." Mush looked entirely ashamed of himself.

"What does she have to do with it?" Mush considered his answer, and then decided on the vaguest one he could think of.

"We have to end the Strike, Jack. We have to start making money again."

"Why, Mush!?" The group leaned in to hear his answer, when a voice was heard from the back.

"So I don't have to go to McGurk's."

Polly pushed her way through the crowd of boys, each of them completely surprised to see her. She made her way to the front of the group, and stared at Jack boldly. Jack let go of Mush when he saw her, Mush still holding his stance against the wall. Instead of pants, Polly was wearing a skirt that hit her between her feet and her knees. Jack eyed the seemingly strange apparel.

"Snyder saw me last night…told me I should be wearing a skirt," she explained, but Jack did not seem to care.

"What're you talking about, McGurk's? That's a place for-" Jack stopped speaking when he saw the pained expression on Polly's face. "Polly…that's not you. You wouldn't do that to yourself."

"The DeLancey's would disagree with you," Polly stated, simply, her eyes watering. She would have run, but something kept her planted there, another part of the ever growing staring contest. Her face turned to Mush. "Go back to the House," she told him.

"Polly…" he begged, wishing to stay. She looked at him apologetically and he obeyed, running back towards the Lodging House. Jack watched him until he was sure he had gotten inside, and then turned back to Polly. It was at that moment that he noticed how frail she had become.

"You can't let them do that to you, Polly," he told her, moving closer with every word that he said. "Why do you let them do that to you?" Polly pursed her lips and wouldn't answer him. "Answer me," Jack insisted, but she did not follow her instruction. "You of all people should know to answer me," he told her, referring to her being female.

"Jack." Racetrack helped Polly as Jack backed off. She turned to leave, and sifted back through the group. However, just before she left, she turned back. She eyed Boots, and motioned for him to move closer to her. Kneeling, she held him, him not knowing why. She soon let him go, but not before speaking to him:

"Whatever they tell you, you're wonderful," she said, loudly enough for the entire group to hear. She then motioned for Snipeshooter to approach her, who also obeyed. "You take care of him." She gave Racetrack a meaningful glance and stood. She left, the group watching as her pace turned from a walk to a fast run. Jack broke the silence once she was out of hearing span.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he announced to the upset group. "We've got a rally to plan."

By the next day, everything was back to normal. Each boy acted as if nothing had happened the previous day. Mush and Blink were a little less talkative with each other, Racetrack watched the group carefully, worrying about another battle, and the kids lived in a world of perfect ignorance, not knowing what had happened in the first place. None of the older boys wanted to say what was truly on their minds, and what their biggest worry was:

When would Polly come back, and where had she gone in the first place? And, above all else, why was the last place she had been seen just outside of the Bowery?

* * *

This is probably the most dramatic thing I've ever written in my life. Trying to get all of the social cues in there while still catering to the plot (which is _such_ a cheese ball) is a lot harder than it looks. But hey, what's life without a little angst, eh?

Please leave me a review…I must admit, I've been considering discontinuing this story. It's very difficult to write while still staying appropriate. Give me some re-encouragement to stick with it!


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